HONESTY IN BEING NOTHING

Sometimes, as I'm in the throws of the great vomit beast staring down at the bright porcelain demon that envelopes all who seriously drink, I wonder where, indeed, did my life go wrong. Apparently, I'm not quite the man I set out to be.

I'm a nonsmoker who started smoking. I'm an anti-drug advocate who's smoked pot every day since '99. I'm a drinker who drinks till he can't shut up. I'm a Native American in many ways, who hates everything our country has become.

Through my horn-rimmed glasses I see a truth behind every medication and every shot of tequila I can take. Something within the can of Jolt and the Oreo. The truth of extinction.

Somewhere in the great landscape of the future lies a time without these humans. These people who inhabit the Earth so poorly, using and consuming til we have nothing left. Conservation is lost and capitalism prevails.

And me? I'm nothing but a spec in the machine of man, grinding between two gears, trying my damnedest to stop one of them. But to no avail. Maybe its the Buddhist in me. If I halt anything, it will cause undetermined amount of disaster. If I do nothing, the gears will truck along, ending humanity in a gruesome death of Hollywood proportions.

That is why I must delve into the catacombs of exploitation. What is capitalism if you don't sell it to yourself? Sometime in the near future, I'll be standing on the precipice of oblivion, looking out to the sea of infinity and ask myself if I had enough pussy, if I had enough beers, if I smoked enough cigarettes and my answer will be yes. Yes, I had enough pussy and beer and cigs. Yes, I lived life and no, I accomplished nothing. Just like the rest of the proletariat. Just like the rest of the bourgeoisies. Just like the rest of the cavemen around me, selling and buying big screen TVs like its some kind of treasure. Yes, I am a man. Yes, I am nothing. But I'm honest.

The Amazing Spider-Man and Other Adventures

Staring at the wall and looking at the Native American brethren that I'll never truly understand, I wonder what life will be like on Mars.

I stick my new Spider-Man stickers to the back of a cop car.

Some say the Green Party is broken, I just say it needs a tune up.

It's my goal to bring Guinness to Iraq. So should it be every American.

If you're looking for adventure, look no further than your own front lawn. Set up a ballista and shoot at the passersby. See how long it takes before the Piggies show up and then decide how long you'll hold up siege. That's my form of Saturday entertainment.

Reading Seven Soldiers of Victory all the way through. Finishing up my fourth book, which will be done before the third, causing posterity to piss itself and spit on my grave all old school '80's style.

My real question is how no one seems to notice that the boycott of Coca-Cola will never work and they will someday own Montana.

Someone asks if I can even right a paragraph over a sentence and I answer with a most intriguing, “Why bother, no one's listening anyway.”

See, I've uncovered evidence that Jackie actually traveled forward in time from moments before the assassination to become the second shooter and miraculously transported back in time just in time to join the motorcade and avoid being shot by herself. A copy of her postmortem biography traveled back through a quantum fissure and deposited itself in the lap of a 13 year old Ms. Lee Bouvier and caused all of her lifelong decisions to follow the sleazy tell-all. Mostly, she hated wearing those pill hats and had to find a way to change her style, hence, dump the boyfriend.

“That's all bullshit,” I said with a grin, referring to her denying me head.

Sometimes, you just gotta let yourself go. Think about sex, rock and roll. Let yourself become one with shitty shitty modern society again. No more of this 9 2 5 crap. Fuckin' party USA. Let the profanity fly and the booze flow. Have a Johnny Jumper for me, bitch.

(So much for the afterlife.)

Do I believe? I don't know. Do I fear? Holy hell, yes.

That's blasphemy.

Maybe the duality of man is just another piece of filth developed by the system in which only the control of identity can be construed as reality.

Nah.

I think its more like we all need to cure AIDS, fuck in the streets and find a really good powder we can put up our nose without any detrimental effects.

It's my dream that someday the baby boomers will die and I'll run the planet. We'll all recycle. We'll have gun control. We'll have safe sex. And the baby boomers and all their hysterical hypocriteness will shit themselves in nursing homes and whine about crap they didn't fix and we did.

And that's when Spider-Man swooped back in, pissing on Doc Ock and eating the soul of the Chameleon. How's that for geekdom?

Sleep tight, America. Venom's still on the loose.

A CALL TO ARMS

It's funny how by definition, a cigarette either begins or ends any process. If I start writing, I have a smoke to get into it. If I end something, I have a smoke to celebrate. It's an evil process and I just can't live with it. That's why I've decided to write this letter to the little people out there, looking for a change. I say meet me with torches and pitchforks on the lawn of the capital on inauguration day in 1969 and prevent Richard Nixon from taking office. First thing, we all have to do is invent our own time machine. How you do this is your call, but once we get there, lets stand our ground on the national mall and make a statement, that the villagers of these United States will no longer tolerate the abuse of power and corruption of our most sacred institutions. Let's hit this bastard before it begins. End the Nixon administration and Washington corruption in its infancy. Let's stop Dick Nixon!

v for president

There are a few films that everyone should see. Schindler's List. Casablanca. Star Wars. Another masterpiece has been beset upon us, one that rivals even the wild dreams of the best film school student. This film is V For Vendetta. Based on Alan Moore's startlingly prophetic graphic novel, V For Vendetta was brought to screen by the Wachowski Brothers.

Best known for the Matrix and its terrible sequels, the Wachowski Brothers added flare and modernism where none was needed before. This Hollywood adaptation brings to vivid life a futuristic London beset by fascism. Corporate, military, church, and media control grasp hold of a population in ultimate control.

Not unlike 1984, this film presents a stark vision of the near future. “He who controls the present controls the past” is a theme that runs throughout the piece. But unlike 1984, V For Vendetta is not besieged by the evil, manipulating double think of communist existence. But by the evil, manipulating power lies of capitalist existence. Leaving the viewer with the question of what form of government to even have.

In all its heroics, V as a character is almost nothing. Almost a subplot. His existence is a moot point, but as the movie states, the idea behind V is what's important. Can we, as a people, hold off the onslaught of fascism in all its forms? Or have we already succumbed? And if so, can we fight back the way V did? Or are we destined to be ruled by dictatorship after dictatorship?

V For Vendetta is a bright light in the wasting away of the movie-going experience. This is the first pro-terrorism movies in a long time, and not since the likes of Stanley Kubrick has the issue of legitimate rebellion been addressed so properly.

An allegory for the War on Terror and the Bush Administration, V For Vendetta is a film not to be missed under any circumstances.

I, myself, traveled over 25 miles to watch it at the IMAX in all its 6 story glory. And to be quite honest, I almost wanted to blow up an unoccupied national landmark, too.

And now I'm downloading it.

All hail the 2^nd American Revolution!

^nd American Revolution!